


a good day

by regrettably



Category: JJCC (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7508863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrettably/pseuds/regrettably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is the first good day of many to come for Daehwan and Chanyul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a good day

**Author's Note:**

> a gift fic where "Zica and Yul are finally happy for once okay"

It’s a Saturday.  

 

Normally, there’s no way Daehwan would get up this early on a Saturday.  

 

But today is a good day.  

 

Today Daehwan actually wants to get out of bed.

 

It helps that Chanyul’s already up and gone.  If Chanyul’s still asleep beside him when he wakes up, the temptation to just grab that sleeping angel by the waist and hold him tight and stay in bed for as long as possible is too great.  Not that curling up under thick covers and holding Chanyul close is a bad way to spend a day.  

 

It’s just that today is a good day.  Today there are things to do that are even better than sleeping.  

 

But it’s not all that easy to escape the comfort of warm sheets.  Mostly because there’s nearly a hundred pounds of huge fluffy dog laying over his legs.

 

“Hoca…”  Daehwan complains, trying to extract his lower body from beneath the stubborn lump, tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor without a hint of grace when he manages.

 

Hoca just grumbles her displeasure at the loss of Daehwan’s body heat, and he can’t help but smile.  

 

“Come on, old girl…”  Daehwan snaps his fingers softly at her as he gets to his feet.  “...let’s go find Yullie.”

 

Finding Chanyul is the first good thing to do.  

 

Because today isn’t just a good day for Daehwan.  It’s a good day for Chanyul too.  And to some extent, it’s also a good day for Hoca, although you wouldn’t know it from the way she whines at Daehwan as she slowly lowers herself off the bed.  

 

Daehwan reaches behind himself to scratch idly at her ears as she follows him out of the bedroom.

 

It's a small but very tidy bedroom.  

 

Everything has been carefully put in its place, the bedding was washed the night before, the windows are cracked open so it smells fresh and clean, and the hallway it opens on to is just as devoid of clutter and dirt as the room itself.  Daehwan follows his nose down that hallway and towards the kitchen, lured by the smell of salt and spice wafting through the apartment, in hopes that he’ll find Chanyul there.  

 

The combined kitchen and living area is just as clean, the countertops sparkling and not even a single dog hair littering the floor.  There’s porridge simmering on the stove, makeshift kimbap covered in plastic wrap beside it, and the potted plants of all shapes and sizes that cover every available surface around the room are freshly misted, so Chanyul’s obviously been here.  But he’s not snuggled up under a blanket on the couch and memorizing lines from movies like he usually enjoys spending his weekends, so Daehwan has to keep on looking.

 

He takes a quick peek out onto the jungle of a balcony that they have (Chanyul needs sunlight for his plants and Daehwan’s more than happy to give the space to him), but not before grabbing some of the carefully wrapped rice from the stove (the half with the extra spicy squid is for him, Chanyul knows it’s his favourite).  The plants have been painstakingly trimmed and the deck looks recently swept, but Yul isn’t here either.

 

That’s okay, because now there aren’t many places left to search.  Joonyoung’s always bugging them about it, asking them why they don’t look for an apartment that’s bigger or more modern, that’s sleek and shiny and all glass and chrome like the one that he and Hadon live in.

 

But Daehwan likes where they live.  Even though it’s not brand new and it’s not very large, it’s clean and cozy and safe and perfect.  It’s not much, but it’s theirs, and Daehwan couldn’t be more proud of it.

 

The bathroom is the next stop.  

 

“Chanyul…?”  Daehwan knocks hesitantly, but the door’s ajar and the lights are turned off.

 

He decides to take a quick peek in the bathroom anyways, Hoca following him in.  Chanyul’s not there, but everything is spotless and gleaming, the tiles scrubbed diligently, the towels soft and fluffy and smelling of laundry detergent.  

 

There isn’t even the slightest blemish marring the mirror, and Daehwan stops for a second to check out his reflection in the pristine glass.  

 

He makes kind of a funny contrast from the neatness of the bathroom with his rumpled pyjamas and staticky bedhead and bleary eyes and the tiny smudge of red spicy sauce on the corner of his mouth.  

 

He smiles as he leans closer to the mirror, wiping at his lips and attempting to put his hair back into some sort of order, and he can’t help but take a closer look at his face.

 

He’s older, there’s no doubt about it.  

 

There are the first signs of wrinkles at the edges of his eyes, he has a few more scars, a few more wounds that haven’t healed nicely, he’s even got a few more tattoos.  

 

But all in all, he could be worse.  He’s still all in one piece.

 

Hoca’s looking old too.  

 

She’s slow, her snout is greying, she can’t see as well as she used to.  But her coat is soft and fluffy (Chanyul made him brush her until her fur shined yesterday), her tongue hangs out of her mouth and it makes her look like she’s smiling, her tail thumps on the floor when Daehwan pats her on the head, and yesterday Chanyul tied a big silky pink bow around her neck so she’d look extra good for today.  

 

So in Daehwan’s eyes she still looks as cute as the tiny puppy he first fell in love with.  

 

Not as cute as Chanyul looks though.  

 

There's only one room left in their little place, and that one room is where Daehwan finally finds Chanyul.  

 

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, a whole bunch of markers and crayons spread out on the rug in front of him.  He’s almost as neat and tidy as the rest of their entire apartment, skin tinged pink like he’s recently stepped out of a hot shower, wearing a soft sweater over a collared shirt so he looks approachable and domestic (Daehwan knows he must’ve agonized forever over what outfit would make him look that way the most), hair still slightly damp and it’s ruffled like he’s been pulling at it and it falls over his eyes as he places the drawing implements into different little piles.

 

He looks perfect.

 

Daehwan knows that he’s probably a bit biased, but as far as he can see the only thing that’s changed about Chanyul is that the lines that form around his mouth when he smiles don’t quite fade anymore.  Beyond that, to Daehwan he looks exactly like he did when they first met (sans the bright orange hair), nervous twitches and all.

 

He’s chewing on his thin lower lip and scrunching up his face as he changes the order of all the crayons around on the floor, and he’s so engrossed in what he’s doing that he nearly jumps a foot in the air when Hoca lumbers over to him and licks the back of his neck.

 

“Ah, what are you doing here…?  Shouldn’t you be sleeping with Daehwannie…?  Who’s going to keep him safe if we both leave him alone, huh?”  Chanyul gives Hoca a shaky smile as he rubs the crown of her head with his long fingers.  “Or is Daehwannie watching me too?”

 

Chanyul looks up, trying to shake his hair out of his eyes, and Daehwan grins.  “Hey.”

 

“Hey.”  Yul gives a little lopsided smile back as Daehwan pads in and kneels beside him on the floor.

 

“What are you up to?”  Daehwan asks as he examines the different collections of crayons, tilting his head so it can rest on one of Chanyul’s bony shoulders.

 

“I’m…”  Chanyul picks up a purple marker out of the unsorted pile, holds it up to the light, compares it to the other shades of purple in a set near his knees.  “I’m… organizing.  I thought that it might be… it might be… nicer for him, if they were sorted by colour…”

 

“Mmm…”  Daehwan nods, rubbing his face against Chanyul, the tiny tremors that Chanyul’s trying hard to hide shaking his cheek slightly.  “...did you get any sleep last night?”

 

“Yeah, a little.”

 

Daehwan sort of doubts that.  Chanyul had still been wide awake, mouthing the dialogue along with actors in a movie of his choosing, when Daehwan drifted off, head in Chanyul’s lap and Chanyul’s fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp.  

 

That’s what they usually do though, and Daehwan’s always the first to fall asleep.  Well, actually Hoca (who always insists on laying over both of them) does first, then Daehwan (who also insists on laying on Yul), and eventually Chanyul succumbs when his movie is finished (all the warm and heavy bodies piled on top of him take their toll).

 

But Daehwan had almost made it to the end of the movie for once, the nerves he’d been trying to mask keeping him awake far longer than he wanted, and Chanyul didn’t seem sleepy in the least.

 

He wouldn’t put it past Chanyul to stay up the entire night, too anxious to sleep.  And while the skin under his eyes does look a little darker than usual, Daehwan decides to let it slide.

 

“You look like you’ve been busy, though…”  Daehwan murmurs as he lifts his tired head off Yul’s shoulder just enough to get a better view of the room.

 

They’ve spent a lot of time working in this room.

 

When they first decided to do this, their second bedroom had never really seen any use as a bedroom (beyond a brief period when Joonyoung was in Japan for a month for work and Hadon didn’t want to admit that he was lonely but also invited himself and all of his dogs over), so it was crammed full of stuff.  

 

It had functioned as a greenhouse and a practice room and a storage room all at once.  It had housed Chanyul’s leafy friends during multiple winters, held Daehwan’s electric piano and stacks of sheet music in one of the corners, and the bed was lost under a mountain of dog toys and old clothes.  

 

There were boxes filled to the top with stuff from the old days: every JJCC album and single ever released (in signed and unsigned formats), gifts and letters from fans, the ATO demos that they had cut and placed the album artwork in by hand, polaroids and prints of some of the countless thousands of photos Joonyoung had taken of them over the years.  The wardrobe had been crammed with old stage outfits they couldn’t bring themselves to part with, the drawers were filled with weird accessories and dumb hats and ridiculous shoes that they’re definitely too old to wear now but wanted to keep as a reminder of all they’ve been through.

 

Cleaning it out and finding new places for all their stuff had been difficult, but they’d managed.  

 

Now the room’s clean and bright and open.  

 

There’s an empty wardrobe with lots of space for future purchases (they will definitely get him more clothing, but they’d like him to choose what he wants).  There’s a comfortable chair and a desk with a good lamp and drawers that hold scissors and paint and paper and stickers and glue.  There’s a small bookshelf filled with books of all shapes and sizes.  The bed is covered with a soft grey comforter (after a long time spent fretting over what shade of blue or red he’d like the best, it was decided that grey was a good neutral), has nearly an overabundance of pillows at the head (“This way he’ll always have enough!”), and a few carefully chosen stuffed animals are placed welcomingly on the blankets (Chanyul thought the Anpanman plushie might be pushing it a bit, but Daehwan had pouted at him until he let it stay).  There’s even a nice wooden chest filled with building blocks and toy cars and action figures at the foot of the bed.

 

They’d wanted to get all these things themselves.  

 

They’d been scrimping and saving for a long time in preparation, and they’d practically managed it.  They were able to afford good furniture, new furniture, pieces that are sturdy and safe and will hopefully last for all the years to come (Youngjin had asked them why they didn’t start off with smaller furniture, a little desk, a small chair, a half-sized floor bed, but they’d wanted things he could grow into).

 

A lot of the toys and the books and the craft supplies were gifts, though.

 

As soon as they’d told everyone else what they were doing, everybody had wanted to help.

 

They’d been opposed, initially.  They aren’t charity cases.  They have jobs, they work hard.

 

But, as always, nobody really listens to them.

 

Joonyoung and Hadon had wanted to give them all sorts of expensive things: a computer, a laptop, some gaming systems.  They’d managed to talk them down from those (“Joonyoung-hyung, he’s only five… isn’t he a bit young for all of that?”), but the past few years have been kind to Joonyoung and Hadon.  

 

Hadon’s finally pulling in a more than fair amount of money acting, and the fashion house that Joonyoung designs for has been on trend consistently since he joined it.  So Joonyoung had simply said “What’s the point in us having all this money if we don’t have anyone to spend it on?”.  Daehwan and Chanyul tried to argue that they should spend it on themselves and the dizzying number of cats and dogs they own, but they already do and still have money to spare.  That’s why most of the toys in the chest and practically all of the art supplies are presents from them (and they’d had to make a verbal contract with Joonyoung that ensured he’ll be allowed to take him shopping for clothes sometime in the very near future).  

 

Youngjin had offered an enormous variety of hand-me-downs: slightly worn clothing, mostly intact toys, books that are only a little bit chewed.  Then, shortly after offering them, he’d proudly announced that his wife is pregnant (again) with twins (again).  With their eighth and ninth children on the way, and a subsequent declaration that they’re going for twelve in total, they really need their things more than Chanyul and Daehwan do.  While they hadn’t managed to convince Youngjin of that, his wife (the only voice of reason he’ll listen to) had somehow gotten it through his thick skull that they can’t give away all of their things any time soon.  

 

However, they still ended up with enough hand-grown vegetables direct from Youngjin’s farm to keep them fed well into the next year (they can’t even open the fridge without a couple of heads of cabbage falling out).

 

Even Henry and Eddy had showed up unannounced at their front door one day, Henry beaming as he held the small hands of their son and daughter in his own, Eddy looking haggard but happy with a mountain of takeout containers piled high in his arms.

 

“Here…”  He’d grinned, shoving all of the styrofoam boxes and bowls into Chanyul’s bewildered hands while Daehwan had laughed and made faces at their kids.  “We thought it might be nice for you to not have to cook for a little while!  And you’ve gotta stop by the restaurant too!  We’ll feed you all for free, whenever you want!”   

 

Honestly, they were a little overwhelmed at everyone’s kindness.  They’ve never had much to give, and they’re not sure that they’ll ever be able to return the favours.  But nobody seemed to mind.

 

“You guys deserve something nice for once,”  Henry had said simply (and in Korean, even when they wrapped up as group he still wasn’t all that fluent, but once they had their first child Eddy was adamant that their children would speak Korean too and for the sake of their kids Henry learned), hoisting his little girl up in the air to rest on his hip and smiling as he kissed her on the forehead, “so let us help you out, okay?”

 

They still aren’t sure if they’re deserving of any of it.  But if it makes everyone else happy to give things to them, who are Daehwan and Chanyul to stop them?

 

So now they have more than they could have possibly ever asked for.

 

They almost hadn’t managed to agree on where everything should go, though.  

 

Well, Daehwan was okay with a pretty standard setup; wardrobe against the wall, bed in the corner, desk under the window, and so on.  

 

Which is what they started with.

 

But then Chanyul just couldn’t decide.  He’d spend hours every day after he got back from work just frowning and pushing furniture around, muttering to himself and shaking his head until he’d drag Daehwan off the couch and ask him what he thought.

 

Daehwan thought every arrangement was good, and always told Chanyul as much.  However, even last night Chanyul was still in here, mumbling and scratching at his head and making Daehwan worry that he was going to throw out his back or something with the sheer number of times he’s moved the bookshelf.  

 

He eventually settled on the bed under the window and the desk against the wall and the wardrobe in the opposite corner, but that was only because Daehwan had lured him out with the offer of movies and a backrub in bed (and it still took a great deal of pouting and pleading to get him to leave).

 

And now, this morning, the room’s back to the way it was when they set it up for the first time months ago.

 

“I just want everything to be perfect for him…” Chanyul murmurs, gathering up the newly sorted markers and crayons in front of him and putting them back in their containers with painstaking care to ensure they’re standing straight.

 

Daehwan thinks everything is, but before he can say as much, his eyes are caught by an addition to the room.

 

“Those are new…”  Daehwan shakes Chanyul’s shoulder gently, pulls his attention away from the crayons.  “...what are they for?”

 

Chanyul blinks, eyes scanning for where Daehwan’s pointing, to the window over the desk.  

 

“Oh, uh…”  Chanyul stands slowly, knees stiff from sitting on the ground for so long, offering Daehwan a hand and helping him to his feet and guiding him to the window.

 

There are a couple flower pots filled with dirt sitting on the windowsill, with a few tiny packages beside them.  

 

“They’re… they’re beans!”  Chanyul gives an embarrassed little smile, picks up the envelopes, shakes them so Daehwan can hear the seeds sifting around.  “Uh… red beans, mung beans, and white snake beans!  I thought that we could… I don’t know… plant them together, and he could take care of them and watch them grow…”

 

“Chanyul…”  Daehwan’s heartbeat speeds up a little in his chest.  

 

Yul wants to share his plants.  Yul wants to share _his_ plants.   _Chanyul_ wants to share _his_ plants.   

 

“He’d like that, wouldn’t he?  Do you think he’d like that?”  Chanyul’s smile fades, and he puts the envelopes back down beside the pots.  “Or is that stupid?  It’s stupid… he won’t like that… what kind of kid would like that…?”  

 

“Chanyul, he’ll definitely-”

 

Daehwan can see Chanyul helping him lift a watering can in his small hands, can see his wide eyes light up in fascination as Chanyul shows him exactly how deep to dig a hole for the seeds, can see him clapping with excitement when they measure how much the beans grow each day.

 

But Chanyul doesn’t give him a chance to say any of that.

 

“Of course he won’t like that… it’s boring, plants are boring… wait, what if this room is boring?”  Chanyul’s getting in one of his moods again, breaths speeding up as he starts looking anxiously around the room, curling his fingers into the hem of his sweater and tugging.  “What if he doesn’t like this room…?”

 

“Chanyul, he’s going to-”

 

“But what if he doesn’t?”  Chanyul’s voice raises in pitch and volume as he begins to pace.  “What if he doesn’t like… any… _any_ of this?  What if he doesn’t like this room, what if he doesn’t like our… our… our home, what if… w-what if he doesn’t like _us_?!”   

 

They’ve been through all of this before.  

 

“Come on, we know that-”

 

Chanyul’s not listening, teetering on the edge of a full-blown meltdown spurred on by months and months of worries and doubts.  “What… what if… what if he doesn’t like… _me_ …?”

 

But Daehwan knows what to do, springing forward and catching Chanyul from behind.

 

Chanyul gasps as Daehwan wraps both of his tattooed arms tight around his slight waist, trapping his arms before his hands can fly up into his own hair and pull.  

 

“Chanyul… Chanyul… Chanyullie…”  Daehwan whispers into the shell of Chanyul’s ear, soft and low.

 

He can feel Chanyul’s heartbeat pounding through his back, his rapid short breaths, the way his whole body shivers and shakes.  

 

But they’ve been through this before too.  

 

So they do like they’ve practiced, Daehwan clutching Chanyul, holding him tight in his arms and taking slow measured breaths, exaggerating the rise and fall of his chest so Chanyul can feel and breathe along with him.

 

It takes a while, but Chanyul does calm down.  When his heartrate slows and he’s able to take in normal amounts of air, Daehwan loosens his grip and turns Chanyul gently in his arms, so they’re standing face to face.

 

Chanyul’s hair is mussed and falling over his eyes and his cheeks are flushed and sweaty, and he tilts his head down to avoid looking at Daehwan.

 

“I-I… I’m... I’m sorry…”  Chanyul mumbles, voice tiny.  “It’s just… today’s been so stressful, and I just… I just… I don’t know if I can do this...  I just want him to feel loved… I want him to love us… I want him to love _me_ …”

 

Daehwan reaches out, clasps Chanyul’s wrists gently.

 

“Chanyul…”  Daehwan feels Chanyul’s pulse beneath his fingers, watches his angel shrink and fade.  “I know we’ve come this far… but… do you want this?  Do you really, really want this?”

 

Daehwan wants this.  He’s wanted this so badly for so long.  The only other thing he’s ever wanted as much as this was Chanyul.  

 

“I… I… I-I…”  Chanyul stutters, hands hanging loose in Daehwan’s grip.

 

“I… I’ve always wanted this… but I need you for this… and if you really don’t want this...”  Daehwan pauses, tongue heavy in his mouth.  He doesn’t want to say this, but he knows it’s true.  This can’t happen without Chanyul.  He would never force this on Chanyul if he really didn’t want it.  “...then we don’t… we don’t have to do this…”   

 

He’s not sure what exactly does it.  

 

Maybe it’s the way his voice cracks a little as he speaks, maybe it’s the earnest look in his eye.  Maybe it’s just the fact that he means it, and that Chanyul knows that.

 

“No… I… I…”  Chanyul swallows hard, but the edges of his lips curve up shyly as he grasps at Daehwan’s wrists in return.  “...I want this.”

 

“Are you sure?

 

Chanyul nods, squeezing Daehwan’s wrists a little, thumbs pressing into the dark ink on his forearms.  “I’m sure.  I’m _so_ sure… I just want to do good, that’s all…”

 

“Then, Chanyul…”  Daehwan knows his eyes are getting kind of wet, but he doesn’t mind if Chanyul sees.  “...then today is a good day, and I love you… and he’s going to love you just as much as I love you… and… and you’re going to do great.”

 

Daehwan releases Chanyul’s arms, tucks some loose hair back behind one of Chanyul’s ears, and stands on his toes so he can kiss the forehead of the person he’s chosen to spend his life with.

 

“Thank you…” Chanyul smiles when Daehwan withdraws his lips, rubs at his own eyes with the back of his hand before using the sleeve of his soft sweater to wipe at the corners of Daehwan’s.  “...you’re going to be a great father too.”

 

And Chanyul wraps his arms around Daehwan’s waist and holds him close, rocking back and forth with him in the little bedroom that they’ve put so much work into in the apartment that up until today has been theirs and theirs alone.

 

Then Chanyul plants a sweet little kiss on Daehwan’s lips.

 

“But you really need to go shower.”  Chanyul grins, flashing his gorgeous teeth.  “You taste, and _smell,_ like spicy squid, and you’ve got to go pick him up soon.  You’ll scare him if you smell like that…”

 

“Maybe he likes spicy squid…”  Daehwan pouts, and Chanyul rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he lets go of Daehwan and bends down to pick up the markers and crayons he’d abandoned on the floor, but he’s not shaking anymore and a big sunshiney smile is still hovering on his lips.

 

So Daehwan’s got to smile too.

 

And his smile is just as big as Chanyul’s when he gives one last kiss to one of Chanyul’s shoulders and heads out of the room.  Because when he pauses in the doorway and turns his head to get one last glance at that beautiful man that he loves, he sees him fussing over those flowerpots on the windowsill, making sure they’re perfectly spaced, that the dirt is nice and even, that the envelopes are displayed proudly in front of the pots, and he’s smiling and humming to himself all the while.

 

He looks just like he did the first time they set foot in this apartment.  Like he’s excited about the future, instead of anxious and stressed.

 

That had been a good day, just like today.

 

Their home has seen lots of good days.  They never even dreamed that they could have a place together, but they do and there’s been so much love and happiness and intimacy here and they never thought they’d be able to have any of it.

 

There were bad days too.  There’s been loneliness and hopelessness and the crushing longing that accompanied the births of every one of Youngjin’s children.

 

But today they’re going to finally have everything they’ve ever wanted.  

 

Today, their second bedroom is filled.  Today, Hoca gets the little companion they’re sure she wants.  Today, they become dads.

 

Today, they have a son.

 

And Daehwan just knows that because of that, there are going to many, many more good days to come.

 


End file.
